


The Life and Times of A Would-Be Gotham Anti-Hero

by GlidingOne



Series: The Life and Times of Annie Simon [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlidingOne/pseuds/GlidingOne
Summary: Laying low failed. Epically. Like I can't even describe how much I want to crawl into a hole and hide. But that won't work anymore. Life has happened. Everything is falling apart. And it's all Red Hood's fault. Taking down Lex Luthor would have been so much easier if Red just left me alone.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One -

I can’t tell what’s going on. It’s hazy, there’s a shadow just in front of me and I can hear the most unhinged laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s vaguely familiar. And then the next thing I know - I see a bald man,  _ Luthor _ , my mind supplies - and I know it’s not the same figure as before.

Something tells me this is a dream. And then Dream-Luthor starts talking.

“Little girl, you’re in way over your head.”

Laughter again, but I’m just angry. I have a feeling it’s meant to intimidate me, and I want to make him stop. And when it doesn’t stop - my whole body tenses and all of a sudden he just dissolves into smoke. It’s reminiscent of half the universe after Thanos’ snappening.

Only unlike with the snappening, I don’t want Luthor to come back - I have no creeping feeling of horror as he dissolves in front of my eyes. 

Then it’s dark, and I  _ feel _ something. It’s warm and wet and it’s on my head - dripping water into my hair and along my temple, and I want to wipe it away, but as soon as I reach up, hands grab my wrists.  

I struggle against the hands for a second, before I give up and fall under the haze of sleep again.

When I finally begin to  _ really _ come to, there’s still something wet on my head, but it’s kind of cold now, and even  _ more  _ aggravating than before. I’m vaguely reminded of when I was ten (the second time) waking up from a coma because my muscles ache and everything around me feels foreign.

Except mom’s not here. At all.

And the sheets are not scratchy. In fact there are no sheets. It’s almost - I think I’m on some kind of futon or couch or something.

I crack an eye open and meet a pair of green eyes - I  _ know _ those eyes - they’re - I think it’s Red. But I can’t be certain because there’s a bit of blue, or maybe it’s the other way around? I close my eyes again and feel a hand on my forehead - whatever it was on my head has been removed.

“Hey, hey, wake up. You scared the shit out of me, just fainting like that. Come on, wake up.”

Right. I fainted, didn’t I? After he blew up Falcone’s office and killed Sofia. After I killed Falcone and Mario. Because of mom -  _ because they killed mom _ . After I fell apart because Mrs. Janet -  _ it was the Joker, wasn’t it? That piece of shit _ \- after she . . .

My stomach grumbles. But while my stomach is empty (like a gaping hole) and hurting, my mouth feels like if I try to eat  _ anything _ it’s going to revolt. How long has it been?

“Right. Food. I’ll be right back.”

Footsteps fade away as they travel across the... concrete? floor - yes, concrete floor, my mind supplies. Not tile, not wood, not linoleum. Concrete. - And I almost reach out to stop him. I love food, but my body is telling me it’s not exactly the best idea right now. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I never say no to food.

And then he’s back and he brings cold chicken soup from a can close to my face and the  _ smell _ of it has me sitting up really fast -

“Woah - hey!”

\- and rushing up and finding a door, any door, and I hope it’s a bathroom. But no.

It’s just a door that leads outside and I’m surrounded by what looks to me like a construction site that I can’t even take in appropriately because I’m trying to find a corner to upchuck in. 

And I find a corner by the time Red’s caught up and all he can seem to do is grab my hair and keep it away from my face. It’s mostly water that comes up.

Ugh. That’s disgusting.

When did I drink water?

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Right, stupid question.”

I open my eyes again to look at him - and I know those arms and that leather jacket better than I know those eyes. They’ve spent hours at my apartment, helping me with school papers and teasing me, and around me - it’s definitely Red. 

“Red?”

And he’s wearing his helmet again, so I  _ know _ it’s him. 

And then I can feel three heartbeats behind me, and even as I tense and fight back the bile trying to rise out of my stomach, a bunch of people have surrounded us.

“Did you  _ have _ to blow up another building? What did Falcone ever do to you? You never even did that to Black Mask.”

I look around at the assortment of people  - Tim and Big Bird are there. And Batman. Batman’s  _ here. _

“Yeah, so?”

Red really doesn’t seem to like them.

“You can’t just - there were people in there! And you  _ shot _ two of them! They’re dead and -”

“What do you want?” Red sounds bored.

“You can’t just do that!”

“And why are you even still wearing the mask right now?” Aww, Big Bird’s jealous. “It’s not like we don’t know who you -”

“Because it makes me look cool.”

I can’t help the little bit of laughter that escapes my mouth, before I’m leaning over the bile from before. Ugh. How do I still have anything left in there?

“Annie.” Tim acknowledges, seeming to have just now noticed me, in fact they all have.

“Why are you here, Annie?” Well hello to you too, Nightwing. Could your scowl get any deeper? “You know he’s -”

“It’s none of your business,  _ replacement _ .” Red sounds annoyed right now. And what does that even mean?

My stomach grumbles again and I groan, trying to get up.

“Where  _ are _ we?”

“You kidnap her, Jason?” That’s Batman who just talked and -  _ what? _

“I’m going back inside.” I think I’m in shock. Because  _ Jason? _

Red doesn’t seem to want to turn his back on the bats so he stays back, letting me head back inside and -

This place is a dump.

Like, sure. There’s some really high tech computers in the corner and a couch with pillows and a whole pile of blankets. But there’s also a small hot plate in the corner and a bunch of cans of what looks like campbell’s chicken soup and more importantly - there’s no bathroom.

Just as I’m about to wonder - is this where Red  _ lives _ ? No wonder he was constantly over at my place - my phone begins ringing. My backpack - where my phone is blasting out the standard ringtone, because I could never be bothered to change it - is resting right next to the couch, AMAZO’s leg making it look misshapen. 

But I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, and I can still hear Red and the others outside the door. They seem to be coming closer.

After twenty seconds the phone stops ringing. Thank God.

_ And then it starts ringing again _ .

Damnit.

“You going to get that?” They’re behind me, and followed me in, I guess. I’m not paying too much attention, though, to be honest.

“No.”

Red barks out a laugh as he comes into the room after everyone else and -  _ this phone is really starting to annoy the hell out of me.  _

I pick it up on the caller’s third attempt with a sigh.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello, is this Ms. Annie Simon?”

I sit down on the couch, leaning back and trying to get comfortable and not pay attention to the supers staring at me and damn. It’s lumpy. Really, Red? 

I hope this is not a fucking sales call. 

“That’s me.”

“My name is Claire with Gotham General. You’ve been listed as the emergency contact and power of attorney for a Ms. Janet Smith.”

Right. Damn. Now I almost wish it were a sales call, now. Since when was this even something hospitals dealt with? Shouldn’t it be the morgue, or the police, calling me?

“And this is . . .” I’m not supposed to know she’s dead, right?

“She’s currently in the Intensive Care Unit -” Wait - what? I sit up quickly and try to run those words through my head again, because what do they mean - is she not dead? “- but as you’re her power of attorney, and she is unconcious, we need you to come in and sign some papers.”

“O-of course, um. I’m not exactly feeling the best right at the moment. Do I need to be there now?”

“As soon as possible. We can’t make many more decisions for her health without your go ahead. We’ve been trying to get in touch with you for a while now.”

“Oh. I-I’ll try to be there soon.”

The call ends, and I’m - I don’t even know what I feel.

“What’s she even doing here?” Right. Nightwing. Big Bird.

“None of your fucking business.”

Thank you, Red. That’s exactly what I was thinking.

I grab my backpack and get up - because  _ she’s alive. Joker didn’t kill her. How?  _ \- only to find Red blocking my way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to the hospital. I have papers to sign.”

“You’re not healthy enough to go anywhere. I mean, you were just throwing up. You  _ fainted _ ! In the middle of the street!”

I glare. “I’m fine.”

“Is fainting a  _ normal _ occurrence for you?”

“Sometimes.”

He scoffs under that obnoxious helmet of his, and continues. “What about throwing up - what about any of that makes you think you’re fine?”

“I didn’t eat enough - that’s why I fainted. And I’m feeling fine now.”

“You didn’t answer my question. And you haven’t been able to eat yet either! It’s been sixteen hours! She shouldn’t be up yet.” He switches halfway through from talking to me to explaining to his ‘guests’ and I guess try to convince them to help him stop me.

“Really. I’m fine.” And if I’m  _ not _ fine, it’s a  _ hospital _ .

The other people in the room look confused and - right. Neither the original boy wonder, nor the current one, nor their mentor, know about my  _ many _ interactions with Red. Or that I need lots of food.

“And anyway, we still need to talk about what the fuck you were thinking last month.”

Because he left first. He has no right to judge me about leaving right now. At least I’ll be back.

He folds his arms in front of his chest, looking like a petulant child. I’m slightly amused. But I still need to get to the hospital.

“I’ll go with her!” says Tim.

I try not to glare at him.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

I roll my eyes and make to leave the apartment. Because Red doesn’t get to tell me what to do. Not right now.

“Try to stop me and see where that gets you, Red. I’m not a damsel in distress. Besides, I’m going to a  _ hospital _ . If anything goes wrong, I’m in the right place.”

Not that I’ll let any of the doctors near me, but the point still stands.

And he  _ doesn’t  _ try to stop me.

Before I leave, I stop and look back at them all.

“He only shot Sofia by the way. And blew up the building. The rest was all me.”

_____

I make a note of where I am when I leave. It . . . it’s such a dump, and what are you doing, Red? Aren’t you a crime lord? Can’t you afford something a little better? But before I can really get into judging Red’s life choices,  _ there’s another heartbeat behind me _ .

I turn my face a little, and  _ oh _ . Right. Tim did say he was going with me. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll leave me alone.

But no. The whole trip to Gotham General is filled with questions from the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.

“So, Annie . . . How do you know Ja-Red Hood?”

Ignore, ignore, ignore. He was going to say something else - probably Jason, like Batman did, I can tell - and I glare at him for a bit and definitely don’t answer.

“Come on! You always said no to Big Bird and me.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Come  _ on _ . He’s - he’s a  _ criminal _ , you know. Of  _ course  _ it’s my business. And I mean, what -”

“It’s really not.”

“Huh?”

“It’s  _ not _ your business.”

“B-”

“Just  _ drop _ it.”

He frowns, and I feel a little bad. Because he’s a teenager - really. And I’m - I’m supposed to be the adult.

“So . . . you did everything else at Falcone’s? What does that even mean?”

“It means he blew up the building and killed Sofia.  _ After _ I took out Mario and Falcone.”

“Why.”

“Because. Can you be quiet now?”

He is for a hot second and then, “Why are we going to the hospital?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“So?”

“Come on! It’s not like -”

“I don’t care.”

“Please?”

“No. What will it take to get you to shut up?”

“Just answer my questions.”

He looks so fucking pleased with himself. But I glare back at him anyway. And damn, he’s almost taller than me.

“Because I have to fill out some paperwork!”

“Oh.” 

And really, I’m just so fed up with this and -ugh.

“Why were you throwing up earlier?”

Will he  _ never _ shut up? I answered his damn question.

“Hell if I know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And finally, he shuts up and is mostly quiet the rest of the walk to the hospital. Him trailing behind me also has the added benefit of getting the nurses to help me faster. Because of course - he’s a known superhero, after all, partner of The Batman - and I’m not freaking out at all - I swear I’m not.

I’m so glad I still have my ID, because otherwise proving who I am would suck.

There are so many forms to sign - like a whole stack about six inches thick.

And what the fuck? I spend an hour just making sure I agree to whatever the fuck I’m reading (Thank God I do, because some of this is fucked up - what do they mean donate her body for research to Arkham? No fucking way am I doing that. They’ll turn her into a zombie, and  _ people actually agree to this shit? _ ).

And from what I’m reading, it doesn’t look good. It’s a miracle she’s alive at all. She’s on a bunch of pain meds . . .

When that’s done and taken care of, Tim - Robin - follows me to the room - room 1211 (on the twelfth floor) only to find police officers outside, guarding.

I almost panic.

“Move along,” one of the police officers says - an Officer Gutierrez.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Janet Smith.”

He eyes me suspiciously before shaking his head ‘no.’

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry. “No can do.”

“Why?”

Officer Gutierrez rolls his eyes while the other one - an Officer Jackson - nudges him with his elbow.

“What is your relationship to the patient.”

At least this guy isn’t saying no. “I’m her power of attorney.” It takes more energy than it should to not call him a buttwad or something worse and more appropriate.

Officer Jackson sighs, but nods his head, seeming to figure it’s better to let me through than to argue, even as Officer Gutierrez glares at me and grumbles about how  _ it’s against protocol _ .

And then, there she is - lying there with bandages and looking practically dead - but  _ that’s definitely her heart beating over there. _

My stomach growls at that moment, and Tim starts chuckling.

This guy . . . I swear I’m about to smash his face in, he’s annoying me so much.

But Mrs. Janet stirs and seems to take stock of her surroundings before turning to me and - she smiles widely.

“Annie!”

Her voice is raspy and I frown as she tries to get up.

“No, don’t - it’s okay. You don’t have to get up!”

She doesn’t listen to a word I say.

“What happened? Last I remember -”

“I’m sorry, ma'am.” Fucking Officer Gutierrez does not look sorry at all, and I have to hold myself back from sending him flying back through the door because he’s interrupting a heartfelt and emotional reunion. “It looks like she’s awake, and we need to speak to her. You can come back tomorrow.”

Mrs. Janet looks so lost in that moment, and all I can do is glare at the officer.

“I -”

“Oh, come on! We’ve been here for an hour now doing paperwork, and just when we get to see her you stop us? Officer, I’m sure you can-”

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Officers, she’s family. I won’t talk without her here.” Huh. Mrs. Janet’s the kind of badass I want to be.

They don’t look really happy.

“Mrs. Smith -”

“Please, call me Janet.”

“Ms. Janet -”

“No! I was married, I’ll have you know. I’m not a spinster. It’s Missus or not at all!”

Mrs. Janet, bless your soul - you’re my spirit sister. Because honestly? The police officers look like they have no idea what to do right now with her.

“Mrs. Janet Smith-”

“No need to be quite so formal, young man. Now get to it! I’m not getting any younger.”

I’m doing a fantastic job keeping my laughter in - hidden behind a big smile I can’t suppress.

The officers look so lost too. As if they don’t know how to even respond - at least until Officer Jackson pulls himself together and begins the questions.

“What were you doing two nights ago at approximately nineteen hundred hours?”

“Nineteen hundred?”

I take pity on the officers. “Seven o’clock in the evening, Mrs. Janet. The last thing you remember.”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” she scoffs as she holds one of her hands in the other - almost nervously, except her face is more annoyed than anything else. “I was just finishing watching the six o’clock news. And then this clown character came barging in and asking about Jason Todd -”

Her words begin to fade slightly because - there’s that name again. What is she talking about? Why would Joker - and then Batman -

“You know? That boy Mr. Wayne adopted all those years ago that died. He seemed to be insisting the poor boy was alive, but you know that clown wearing maniac - he’s not exactly right in the head and -”

But of course - this is a comic universe. And if there’s anything I’ve learned about comics, it’s that no one stays dead long - except maybe Uncle Ben - not Gwen Stacy (just look at Spider-Gwen), not Bucky Barnes (he came back as the Winter Soldier). DC is probably no different from Marvel in that aspect. The ones that die either don’t die at all or - and even if there  _ was _ a body . . .

“- And then he was asking where Annie is - which I thought was strange, but that it also explained why she’s here. Because she’s not just family, she’s my landlord. And -”

“I’m sorry,” Officer Gutierrez interrupts, “but - Joker was specifically asking for Ms. Simon here? Or for your landlord?”

“He was asking for Annie. Said he was going through the class list from Mr. Todd’s middle school days. I told you - he’s crazy. And then he got out this crowbar and -”

Mrs. Janet stops talking as she seems to remember what happened.

“I think the only thing that saved me was that Life Alert button thing. I fell and didn’t even need to press anything. They somehow knew - I haven’t even had it for very long. I just saw it on the tv and -”

“Ma’am.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry. What was the question again?”

Officer Gutierrez gives me the stink eye before closing his notebook and grumbling.

“One moment, Ma’am. We’ll be right back.”

Mrs. Janet stares after them for a second before she turns to look at me again, giving Tim a quick up-down measure-up.

“Annie, it’s not safe here right now. Joker’s looking for -”

“It’s okay. I already talked to him.” 

She looks so fucking terrified at the thought, I rush to add, “I’m not as helpless as you think I am. I’m here, you know?”

She doesn’t look convinced, and looks around the room as if expecting someone else to show up and start shooting up the place. She doesn’t seem to notice Tim in his Robin get-up.

“I’m not so sure those police officers are on our side,” she whispers. “They were talking about Lex Luthor just before you came in and how - I just. Annie, I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

Right. Perfect. 

Fuck.

_____

Tim and I leave Mrs. Janet’s room before the police officers get back - Mrs. Janet insists she can handle their questions and it would probably be a good idea for me to rest. I don’t look like I’ve had enough sleep - and Mrs. Janet’s always been a mother hen.

Unfortunately, while I successfully ditch the officers, I’m not so lucky with Tim.

“So are we heading back now?”

“No.” Tim looks so disappointed. “I’m getting food.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

He looks confused now. “But you just said -”

“Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

I get back to my apartment with Tim complaining that he has better things to do than babysit me (no one invited him) but insisting it’s his duty to make sure I make it home safe because - “No way! Red Hood would  _ kill  _ me - he already hates my guts!” and he looks so affronted that I’d even  _ suggest _ it.

But damn. It was worth a shot.

On the plus side, the Gotham Metro is really pleasant when you’ve got a Robin escorting you. No one seems to want to stand too close to Tim. 

We arrive at my apartment only to find  _ even more cop cars _ . Like seriously, all I can see are the alternating red and blue lights and -  _ really? _

As I approach the building, a police officer - looks new and uncertain about his job - holds a hand up and moves to stop me from getting through with a “Sorry, ma’am, we can’t let you through.”

I roll my eyes.

“I  _ live  _ here.”

The police officer frowns. “We’ve accounted for all the occupants.”

“Bullshit. I live in apartment 5C.”

There. He recognizes - oh shit. He  _ recognizes _ my apartment number.

“You’re Annie Simon?”

Fuck this. Fuck this and all - I wanted to fucking blend in! This is not blending in.

“Yeah.”

“You - are you aware the Joker and two members of his gang were found in your apartment - crippled?”

Fantastic.

“They broke into my fucking apartment.”

“Woah! Really?” Tim, shut up, please

“As far as I’m concerned, they got what they deserved.”

“So - so you  _ are _ aware.”

“And your point?”

“That - ma'am, we’re going to have to bring you in for questioning.”

I roll my eyes even as Tim begins protesting. Loudly. 

“The guy - who broke out of Arkham, has killed a bunch of people, and breaks into a girls’ apartment with a gun to her face - gets crippled and the  _ girl _ who was  _ threatened _ gets locked up. Right.” 

He does not look amused, so I cut in, “You know my mom was a lawyer? A story like this - it’ll be on the headlines of the Gotham Gazette - . . . What’s your name again, officer . . . ?”

“Uh, right.” He moves to cover his nametag as he reaches for the radio strapped to his vest - that nametag is too conveniently placed. “I’ll call Commissioner Gordon.” 

And fuck - I know that name too.

“Uh, is this going to take long? Because I’m getting hungry too.”

“Shut up, Robin.”

Tim rolls his eyes as another guy comes up to us.

“I got this officer. My name is Jim Gordon, and you are?”

“Annie Simon. I live in apartment 5C.”

“Ah.” He rubs his forehead, a pencil in his hand before he sighs, “And . . . are you aware the Joker was found outside your apartment, trying to crawl away.”

“Guess I should have hit him harder.”

He snorts and takes out a cigarette from his pocket.

“Please don’t.”

His eyebrows raise but he puts the cigarette away for a bit, at least. 

“Can I grab anything from my apartment.”

“Sorry. No can do.” Fuck officers and their fucking phrase ‘no can do’ - it’s such a cop-out. At least he  _ does  _ have the shame to look sorry. “We have to process the crime scene and it’ll be a couple of days, most likely a week before we get it done. We’ll also need to question you about -.”

This - this is fucking ridiculous.

“You realize, Joker invaded  _ my _ apartment. He attacked  _ me. _ He’s a fucking psychopathic murderer. You’re invading  _ my  _ privacy for  _ this _ ?”

He sighs again (and I swear, if Tim makes _one more noise_ . . .) - “I understand. But unfortunately, we still need an official report and investigation, and we need to preserve the integrity of the crime scene. You were there?”

“Yeah.”

“And you left?”

“They weren’t dead when I left, and I was more worried about getting away from the psychopath. You know - self-preservation? He held a gun to my head.”

“You fled a crime scene?”

“They invaded my fucking apartment. I was just trying to get somewhere safe.”

“And you’re here now?”

“I passed out last night and spent the evening at a friends’ place.”

Tim snorts. And right, Jason is - ugh.

“Do you need medical attention?”

“I’m fine -”

“She was throwing up earlier.”

I’m this close to smacking him.

“Here -”

“I don’t need a doctor, I just need food and rest and - and clothes.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you take anything from the crime scene. And besides that, based on the three  eyewitness accounts, you assaulted  _ them. _ ”

I’ve never been more relieved that I have my laptop and AMAZO’s leg in my backpack than at this moment. But I’m so angry, I just want to break something.

“This is bullcrap. Have you looked at me? I mean seriously, I look like a strong wind could blow me over. I could barely get away from the three psychopaths that  _ invaded my house. _ ”

Tim snorts behind me even as Commissioner Gordon attempts to speak up.

“That may be so but -”

“And what do you mean it’s going to take a week? You’re not going to reimburse me for the spoiled food,  _ are you _ ? I have  _ milk _ in that refrigerator! What about where I’m going to sleep tonight? I want you to be aware, I  _ don’t  _ give you - any of you - permission to search my house or  _ anything _ of mine.”

“We can -”

“Forget it.” I turn around and just leave. “Boy Wonder, let’s go to the grocery store.”

“Uh, okay.”

And as we’re leaving, I can hear the commissioner shout out, “Hey! We still need to set up an interview! And we need to check your backpack!”

No you fucking don’t. They already have access to my underwear drawer, without my permission. I’m not letting them find AMAZO’s leg in my bag.

“I’ll call you!”

Except, no I won’t. That’s a stupid idea.

“I think you’re all full of it, Commissioner!” Tim shouts back to him, and - wow. Didn’t know he had it in him. “So, we headed back now?”

Ugh. Nevermind.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

My phone is ringing. Why the fuck is my phone ringing again? I’m in the middle of the grocery store, getting all sorts of food and everyone’s staring because my phone’s ringing and I don’t want to get it out because AMAZO’s leg is still in my bag.

Why the fuck is my phone ringing?!

At least Tim’s getting the staples (rice, beans, etc.), and so is far away - far enough that, even as I sigh and kneel, he can’t see the contents of my bag.

And this fucking phone won’t stop ringing - I’m trying my best here.

“What?”

“Oh, hello, Annie!”

Fuck you, Luthor. I went through all that trouble and it’s just _Luthor._

I move to hang up, but he calls out, “Don’t hang up, just yet. I have something to say I just _know_ you’ll want to hear.”

And isn’t that cryptic and threatening. I roll my eyes but bring the phone back to my ear.

“You have five seconds before I stop listening. Talk.”

“I’m hearing about all this interesting news from Gotham. Just last month there was an earthquake - we felt it here in Metropolis, you know? And then there’s this news that the Joker’s gotten out and was found in what looks to be your building. So, I thought I’d check in with you. Are you alright?”

Right. The earthquake _I_ caused. When I was with Red. And Joker. Fuck.

“I’m fine. Why are you _really_ calling me? You have two seconds left.”

“I can’t call just to check in?”

“No.” No, he can’t. Because he’s a psychopath and he paid Falcone to kill mom and -

I’m not letting him know anything about what I know.

He sighs, and I swear if I saw him, I’d think he was leaning back in a swivel chair, or something.

“I wanted to invite you to-”

“No thanks.”

Because fuck no. I don’t need an invitation to another one of his-

“It’s a small get together for charity. It’ll be held at LexCorp’s downtown office in Metropolis. Next week. Saturday. Eight o’clock. You’re name’s on the list whether or not you show up. It’ll be a good opportunity for you, now that you’ve graduated.”

Damn. He’s not wrong. I desperately need to network. But I still hate his guts.

“I’ll think about it.”

I hang up. Because I’m not dealing with this shit. Not right now.

“Who was that?”

Right. Tim - _Robin_ \- whatever - is here, now.

“A fucking psychopath.”

“So . . . your boyfriend?”

“What?” Where did that come from?

“You know - Red Hood - psychopath - it fits.” He shrugs after weighing the two and giving me a slightly judgemental side eye.

“Whatever. It wasn’t Red, Red’s not _that_ much of a psychopath, and we’re not dating. Anyway, it was _another_ psychopath.”

“You know another psychopath? How?”

I glance at him - and . . . “Is that ham?”

“Huh, oh, yeah, I thought - hey! Don’t change the subject!”

Damnit. “I don’t want ham. It makes my stomach upset. I need something else. And if we’re getting something from the cold cuts section, we should probably get bread too.”

As I head to that isle, he just hangs back and stares at me.

“What?”

“You - why do you have _that_ stuff?”

I look down at my basket, and - right. I have four jars of pickles (I don’t even know _why_ , because I fucking hate pickles, but it seemed like a good idea when I was taking it off the shelf, I mean it was on sale so . . .), cheese, and brownies. A whole three boxes of premade brownies. And I don’t know how to answer the teen, so I shrug, drop my stuff into the cart and walk away.

“Hey! Don’t think we’re done talking!”

And fuck. He just won’t shut up, will he?

“I don’t know. I just wanted it.”

“Who likes pickles that much?”

“I hate pickles.”

The poor kid looks so confused - you and me both, buddy.

He doesn’t say anything at the cold cuts section, or the bread. It’s only when we get to the checkout that he opens his dumb mouth again.

“Why would you get pickles if you hate them?”

The checkout person, an elderly woman, hears him and gives me a judgemental side eye too. Well, no one asked you.

“That’ll be $87.55. Will it be cash or credit?”

“Don’t look at me,” Robin says, and she gives him an even more judgemental eye than she gave me.

I roll my eyes at him but hold up my credit card.

I don’t stick around for much longer after that and then - fuck. I forgot clothes. But I’m so hungry that -

Nope.

“Hey!”

Can’t go any further. I was running on fumes before because of Mrs. Janet, and now, I’m done. I collapse into Tim’s arms and barely hear him begin to panic before all I know is darkness.

_____

I wake up again in a completely unfamiliar place. It’s dark and somewhat damp. Almost like a cave. And there’s someone standing right over me with a mask and a bunch of other people just behind -

“Where the fuck am I.”

I try to sit up, only to be pushed right back down by Tim - Robin - _whatever._

“Slow down, you fainted in the middle of the street.”

Yeah, I figured - but my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of engines before I can say anything to wonder boy and - why the fuck is Red following Batman into this cave and -

Fuck. This isn’t just any old cave, is it?

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

And that would be Red.

“Jason, get back here. We weren’t finished talking.”

That’s Batman, and he’s following Red like he’s about to tackle him to the ground. Only maybe I shouldn’t be so worried for Red since he just grabbed Tim by the collar of his shirt and looks set to murder him.

“Hey, chill out Red, I’m fine.” With no one to stop me, I sit up without a problem, even as my stomach grumbles, and my body wants nothing more than to sleep for ten hours straight. And food.

“And what do you think you were _doing_?”

Oh hell no. He does not get to lecture me.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but I was just trying to get all my ducks in a row, thank you very much. No need to chew Tim out when all he was doing was making sure I didn’t fall on my face - thanks for that, by the way.”

He doesn’t look pleased, though he does flinch when I use his name and actually lets go of the poor teen.

 “Yeah, no problem.”

Tim looks like he wants to get out of here fast, though.

“You should rest here tonight.”

Batman’s talking to me - tell me this isn’t my life.

“Why the hell should she?”

Oh? Red coming to my rescue again? Only it’s Tim that answers, as if I don’t even get a say.

“Her house is under investigation, because the Joker was found there. And let’s face it, your little hideout is no safe house, it’s barely a headquarters.”

Red seems pissed as all hell, but he can’t argue - his place is a dump.

“I’m not leaving without her, Bruce.”

Wow - that’s . . . almost sweet of him.

“You can stay here too, you know.”

Red scoffs just as my stomach growls again. Because, it’s been a solid day since I’ve eaten anything, not that I’m counting. And because I upchucked anything I might have eaten and because I dropped a building on Falcone.

And now, this butler-like person I vaguely remember seeing from the one Halloween trip I took to Wayne Manor what feels like a lifetime ago is in front of me with a cup of what smells like mint tea and table water crackers.

“Thanks.”

“So . . .” great, Dick wants to talk now, “How long have you known him?”

“It’s none of your damn business.”

Oh, Red, you really need to chill like -

“You -”

“He’s been around for a while.” Because Dick doesn’t get to rag on Red about this. “But he’s right. It’s really none of your business.”

“But you - what did you mean you did the rest at Falcone’s?”

Right. I did say that before I left Red’s place. But, I already had this conversation with Tim earlier.

“I already told you, she was making shit up.”

Huh. Red’s taking the credit _again_.

I try not to roll my eyes and instead try to focus on the table water crackers and tea.

The argument seems to be gaining volume even as I much and sip, until finally Red seems to explode.

“We’ve been over this. For a couple of hours already. We’re done.”

The cave is silent for a hot second, before Jason looks to me and holds his hand out, “You coming with me?”

Before I can respond, Batman interrupts, “Jason, I - Just please . . . stay the night. We can talk about this in the morning. And this way, she can sleep somewhere comfortable.”

That’s never a good idea, but fine.

“Master Jason, would your old room suffice?”

Jason seems to deflate at the butler’s words, even as he steps closer to me.

“Yeah, sure that sounds fine Alfred.”

“Just -”

“Beat it, replacement.”

I try not to roll my eyes at that. And then - “What are you doing?”

“Leaving this damn helmet here in the cave. It gets stuffy as hell. Want a tour?”

And there’s his face again. The back-from-the-dead face of the original Annie’s crush. And I suppose mine too. . .

“Sure, but I need to eat some more. Do you think we can get some more of these crackers and tea?”

He seems to roll his eyes a bit, but he’s got a smile tugging on his lips - so that has to be a good sign.

_____

We don’t talk about the elephant in the room - mainly his death. Even though I get the feeling that he really needs to talk about it. We don’t talk about it when we’re in the kitchen of Wayne manor with the butler - _and holy Lord I’m in the kitchen of Wayne manor, this is surreal -_ and we don’t talk about it when he gives me a little tour (like minimal, he showed me the bathroom and his room and let me take a shower), and we don’t talk about it when he comes back from finding an outfit for me to wear - “It’s Dickhead’s girlfriends’. He said she wouldn’t mind.”

It’s honestly kind of stressful. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up his supposed death.

Even if the curiosity is killing me.

So I leave the conversation be, and we don’t really talk much that night - even as he tugs me to his chest and kisses my shoulder before he rests his chin above my head.

_____

The sun doesn’t wake me up like it normally does. It’s the arm over my waist and the warmth at my back - _and who the fuck is this?_

Whoever it is is keeping me tucked under their chin and I’m hungry. This is not going to work. I need food.

This arm is heavy as no one would believe and the more I try to move it, the more it tenses and keeps me caged.

Who the fuck is even - oh.

Right.

This is Red’s - Jason’s - room - in the manor - _mansion_ \- owned by his Adoptive father. The Batman. 

“Go back to sleep.” He’s muttering in my ear.

But no. I slept fine and more than enough and now I’m done. I need to eat. “I’m hungry.”

That seems to get him moving, finally.

It’s a little awkward, as I grab the clothes I’ve probably been wearing for three days straight, now that I think about it - only for him, in his shirtless glory to snatch it away.

“We can wash it later, you can wear something else.”

He’s back within ten minutes with a different set of clothes.

“We’re leaving after breakfast, if that’s okay.”

He’s hesitant, I can tell. Almost as if he doesn’t want to leave.”

“If that’s what you want,” I answer, but I can tell that didn’t address whatever the hell he’s worried about.

“I mean I can understand if you want to join the bat and stay in this place, I would too, if I didn’t have my beef with -”

“I don’t understand.”

I interrupt because what the hell is he going on about?”

“If you want to stay, you can.”

I’m trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but it’s not easy.

“I _want_ to go back to my apartment, but the police have it under investigation. I had no say in coming here.”

He doesn’t say anything for a hot second, seeming to think about my words before turning and saying, “Let’s go eat and then we can leave this place.”

Breakfast is . . . interesting.

Tim doesn’t look like he slept a wink and has a large mug of steaming black coffee that he keeps filled to the brim as he sips away and flips through a stack of papers, books, and notepads.

He doesn’t even look up, muttering to himself the whole while, when Jason grabs a piece of toast and accepts a plate of eggs and bacon from Alfred.

And while all of it smells appetizing, I’m just given a piece of toast and more tea - did they mention anything about my up chucking from yesterday?

I can’t wait to fucking get out of here. I need more food than just toast.

The calm in the kitchen is interrupted, though.

“Morning Tim.”

And there is the original boy wonder stumbling into the kitchen shirtless with a yawn and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning _Dickhead_.”

Jason seems particularly upset right now.

Either way, Dick seems to stop for a second and take a good look around at the room.

“Oh - hey, Jason. Annie.”

In the awkward silence that follows, I chomp on the rest of my toast, grab another slice and get up.

“Well, this has been fun, but it’s time for us to go. Lots to do - people to see. Come on, Jason.”

That seems to get Tim to look up from his papers in surprise for the first time this morning - just in time for me to grab Jason’s arm and drag him out of the kitchen.

We don’t stop when we pass Mr. Wayne in the hall, even though he does, and I can feel his stare at our backs. We don’t stop when we get to the motorcycle. I just get on, strap the helmet on and sit on the bike while Jason seems to have some kind of mental epiphany.

“Tim said your apartment was under investigation, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And to be clear - you don’t want to stay?”

“No.”

His face seems to brighten a little and his lips twitch into almost-a-smile. Then he grabs his own helmet and he’s Red Hood again - the crime Lord.

_____

The hideout is a dump, but the first time I was here I wasn’t exactly given a tour given that I’d just woken up from a fever (I’m feeling fantastic now, by the way.) It’s better than I thought it was. It doesn’t have a bathroom in the conventional sense - because there’s no place to bathe - but there _is_ a toilet. It’s just not accessible from the inside of his tiny studio-like space.

I’d been in such a hurry the day before I’d missed it.

“So yeah, this is my -”

“Lair. It’s your lair. Don’t you dare call it home.”

He snorts at that.

“Sure. Whatever. So, what are you planning to do now?”

“I need food. And - fuck.” I forgot the food I bought at the store, didn’t I?

“What?”

“Well, my stopping by the Grocery Store yesterday is pointless because I forgot it at your dad’s place.”

“I can just get Chinese takeout if you want.”

I try not to make a face at that - because I can’t stand Chinese takeout - but I don’t think I succeed.

“What?”

“I just . . . if you’re getting takeout can’t it be something like -” I struggle to think of something appetizing that also doesn’t make my stomach want to revolt at the thought of it - what is _wrong with me?_ \- “I don’t know a sandwich from a bodega?”

He huffs out a laugh.

“Sure. But you do -”

I interrupt, because _fuck_. I didn’t just forget the food at the manor. I forgot my backpack with the piece of Amazo’s leg and my laptop and -ugh.

“We have to go back.”

His face is blank.

“I can’t - I - I forgot my backpack with my laptop and the intel and fuck.”

I think I’m having trouble breathing? Why is everything getting difficult to focus on?

“I’ll grab it, and the food. Just. Calm down.”

_Calm down?!_

I sit on the couch as he grabs the helmet and heads back out, giving me a somewhat concerned glance before he’s gone.

And. . . and I can’t. I need air.

I leave ten minutes after he does.

_____

I don’t know where I’m going at first. I just wander the city a bit, looking into the shop windows and grab a newspaper off the sidewalk - it looks like the hiring section.

Mostly there are bartending and waitressing positions, though I do see a position as an office assistant at Wayne Enterprises.

I crumple of the sheet of paper and toss it because what kind of references can I put there? I killed my last boss, Black Mask the other guy I was working for is in prison, and both of them were Mob Bosses?

Let’s face it - Wayne Enterprises is run by The Bat. And I’m sick and tired of him butting into my life.

My stomach growls in protest when I pass by a local cafe without stopping, and I somehow I find myself in front of the hospital again.

“Oh, Ms. Simon!” Oh fantastic. The nurse - nurse Clarice, her name tag tells me - remembers me.

“Hi.”

“Are you here to see Ms. Smith?”

Ms. Smith? No one calls Mrs. Janet ‘Ms. Smith.’ And this nurse’s face does not look very optimistic.

“Yeah.” Not that I set out intending to see her, but while I’m here . . .

The nurse’s face is mostly blank, but her brows do furrow a bit.

Mrs. Janet’s awake, but looking even worse than she did before, and something about it doesn’t sit right.

“Hey.”

She smiles when she sees me, and though her voice cracks a bit, I still understand what she’s saying.

“Annie!”

“Hey,” I repeat. Like an idiot.

“Come here!” Her smile is big, but it looks as if she’s in a lot of pain, and her body is riddled with bruises I didn’t notice last time.

“How are you feeling?” I ask pulling the chair by the window closer to her bed.

She grimaces as she attempts to shift in her bed, “Could you move the pillows dear - behind my back?”

“What? Oh, sure.”

As I’m moving the pillows, I notice even more bruises and the board on her wall detailing information about her condition, how they don’t have plans of moving her out anytime soon, because she’s got multiple internal injuries and a couple of surgeries scheduled for the next two weeks.

I also notice physical therapy there as well, because apparently she has a back injury that may have caused permanent damage.

“Annie,” she interrupts my thoughts with her words, and I look back to her, “I meant to speak to you earlier, but you left so quickly.”

“What is it?”

“I think I’m going to tell them I don’t want treatment.”

Her words are quiet, I almost think I mishear them.

“What?”

“I think it’s time. I’ve lived a long life. And I’m in so much pain.”

She sounds like she’s about to cry.

“No,” She looks up at me, mildly shocked, and I continue, trying to think of something to change her mind, “You’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you, you - you can’t leave me yet.”

She stares at me for a moment, then her lips twitch a bit.

“It’s just a thought,” she says. And then she closes her eyes and before I can say anything else, she’s asleep, and all I’m left with are snores.

I don’t leave her that night, getting food at the hospital cafeteria and sleeping in the seat next to her bed.

_____

He’s in the hideout when I return at noon the next day - just sitting on his futon bed thing, a bottle of beer in his hands, and looking like he hasn’t slept a wink.

“I needed some air, and then I ended up at the hospital and -”

“Are you okay?” He’s jumped off the couch so quickly and is in front of me in two steps, hands on my shoulders and staring at me, trying to make sure I’m okay.

“What? No yeah, I’m fine. I was just visiting Mrs. Janet.”

He seems to relax, and sighs, holding me at arms’ length before his lips twitch and he says, “By the way, I ate your sandwich.”

I roll my eyes, walking past him and making my way to his tiny refrigerator - where my shopping and backpack are.

“You got it for me.”

“Yeah. Tim didn’t even seem to know what was in there - it was still in the car collecting dust. Have you been able to get anything off it yet.”

“Hm? No.” I’m barely paying attention as I open it up and pull the leg out.

“Here, I got it.”

And before I know it, he’s hooking it up to his many many computers.

“You going to let me help or -”

He chuckles. “Let me do my job.”

“Your job? I thought you were a mobster.”

“I was not a mobster, I was like low key -”

“You put a bunch of heads in a duffel bag to scare Black Mask’s associates. You were a mobster.”

He lifts his eyebrows at me. “Do you want help or not?”

This - I can’t - there’s a smile on my face I’m trying to keep stuck as a frown, but it’s not working.

“Type away. Show me what you got.”

At some point, while he’s digging through lines and lines of code and turning the leg this and that way, analyzing the hardware, I fall asleep.

_____

The phones ringing again, and I’m this close to smashing it with the tremors of doom. But I don’t. Whatever I’m on is lumpy as fuck, and I have the strange feeling that breaking my phone would be smarter than staying on this futon.

So I answer the fucking phone.

“You’ve reached Annie Simon. How may I direct your call?”

“Uh - that - this is Police Officer Sanchez with the GCPD. I’m calling about your apartment and to see if we can schedule an interview at the precinct.”

“Who is it?” Jason’s here, I notice, right behind and really way too handsy, I decide as I brush his arms away and sit up, grabbing some clothes and getting up out of bed.

“Uh yeah, sure. When’s good for you?”

Jason’s trying to grab the phone without getting up out of bed, and it’s not going well for him.

“How’s ten o’clock?”

I glance at the time on my phone - eight fifty.

Ick. That means I have to leave really soon. Because there’s no way I can leave the hideout like this. Damn.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I can do that.”

“Wonderful! We’ll see you then.”

“Yup, okay bye.”

“Who was it?”

“The GCPD. They want to talk.”

“Will you need me to break you out?”

I laugh. Because I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. And because I don’t know if I’ll need it.

I need to edit this price


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The clock on the wall is slowly driving me insane. I’m sitting in this “interview room” and feel like a criminal - which, you know, I sort of am. But it doesn’t change the fact that the clock is seconds from driving me completely insane and that I’m seconds away from crushing it into dust because of it.

As soon as I’d entered the Police Station, I’d seen the Joker being wheeled out in a wheelchair and straight jacket by some men in white coats.

And for a second, I thought he wasn’t going to see me, but then he did and - he looked unhinged, smiling at me as if he was a five-year-old with a new toy.

“Hey - hey, Annie! Nice to see you! Have you -”

I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through me and the ground to his chair, which caused a look of pain to pass across his face. And I knew I’d dislocated his broken bones again, because the screams he let out were inhuman.

Commissioner Gordon stomped in from an office above us. “What’s going on here?! Get him out of here! He should have been out an hour ago.” 

“Out?” I asked, as soon as he reached me and then he was staring at me long and hard.

“This way, Ms. Simon.”

Which is how I find myself in the interrogation room waiting for over an hour for an officer to question me. They even took my phone - said they had sensitive equipment in here or some other such bullshit.

If I had known it would take this long, I swear, I would not have bothered.

But a part of me really wants my bed back and if this is the only way to get access to my apartment then fine.

It’s just as I’m contemplating just up and leaving that the door  _ finally  _ opens and in steps a guy in business casual and a police badge hanging from his hip.

“Hello, my name is Detective O'Neil and I have a couple of questions for you.”

Fantastic.

“And then I can get back to my apartment you guys have blocked off for the past week?”

He looks slightly surprised and annoyed, but then, “Sure. We’ve cleared the apartment and have all the information we’ll need from it. But let’s start with this.”

And there it is - the gun Falcone gave me months ago. Placed by a frowning police detective into the middle of the table.

“And this has to do with Joker’s broken legs how?”

“This is an illegal firearm. Purchased illegally and not registered to you.”

“I didn’t purchase it. It was a gift.”

“A gift from who?”

“A gift from whom,” I correct, and he gives me a look that is equal parts confused and annoyed. “My boss, Mr. Falcone gave it to me. I don’t really use it much except when I go to Mr. Falcone’s private gun range.”

“Ah. Yes. Your employer. We have records that you worked for both Mr. Falcone  _ and  _ Mr. Sionis.”

“Who the fuck is Mr. Sionis?”

He looks at me for a hard second, then replies, “He’s also known as the Black Mask.”

“Oh. You mean the assistant position I had with Ms. Li. What about it?”

The detective looks nonplussed.

“Funny thing, Black Mask was recently arrested and Mr. Falcone’s whole building was blown up on the night Joker went to your house.”

I seriously don’t know where he’s going with this.

“And that’s not all. The coroner’s report showed Falcone, his son,  _ and  _ his daughter were all shot in the head.”

I stare at the guy for a hot second before I reply. “Where are you going with this? I thought I was here to talk about an attack on me by Joker and the attack on my tenant . . .”

“And that’s another thing. The Joker - he really likes to talk. And he mentioned you know a known criminal - the Red Hood.”

There’s silence in the room for a hot second. 

“Am I under arrest?”

He clenches his jaw and nearly spits out his answer. “No.”

“Am I free to leave, then?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Or should I ask for my phone call?”

He leaves without responding. And I’m stuck in the interrogation room for what feels like forever, but according to the clock on the wall, is really just another hour. My stomach grumbles. If they plan to keep me here much longer they’d better fucking feed me.

And then - my phone is ringing. I can tell it is, because I can hear it - somehow - just past what I assume is a two-way mirror.

“You’ve reached the phone of Annie Simon.”

Oh - no. They didn’t. They didn’t just . . . I can hear a mumbling - and isn’t that weird - asking where Annie is and then -

“This is the GCPD, who is this?”

Not thirty minutes later, there’s a commotion on the other side of the door, and yelling and stomping and then - the door flings open.

“Annie! There you are.”

“Dick.” 

And look, it’s the whole gang. Minus Jason - because wouldn’t that be awkward, because isn’t he supposed to be dead?

“Bruce is going to take care of everything, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And then we can -”

My stomach interrupts growling for food, and even as Dick stares at me trying not to laugh, Tim sticks his head in.

“Let’s go. Bruce is kicking up a storm, you don’t want to miss this.”

And I’m really glad I didn’t. Because by the end of his tirade, Bruce has an assurance I can use my apartment again and that Joker will not be able to press criminal charges against me. And I’ll have my apartments back too, which is a plus.

And then I’m being shuffled into a limousine and am left staring awkwardly at Bruce.

“Where to, Mr. Wayne?”

“Well where do  _ you  _ want to go, Annie?”

I give the driver - a man I have never seen before - the address to my apartment and we settle into silence again. Until I break it.

“How did you even know to come?”

“Jason called and said he hadn’t seen you in a few hours, and when he tried calling your cell, he got the GCPD. So I made a call to some people.”

Of course.

Because that explains  _ everything _ .

“And it won’t cause you any problems?”

“Why would it be a problem?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that I used to work for Falcone  _ and  _ Black Mask? Take your pick. Won’t it hurt your image, helping me out?”

He has a frown on his face, before we’re interrupted by the ringing of my fucking phone and as I dig it out of my bag, I can feel all the eyes on me and -

“You’ve reached Annie Simon. How may I direct your call?”

“Hello, is this Annie Simon?” 

Is this person stupid? That’s just what I - the voice on the other end erupts into word vomit before I can respond.

“My name is Caitlin Jeffers, and I’m calling to personally invite you to the Smithson’s Charity Event being hosted by Lex Luthor at LexCorp’s downtown office in Metropolis the week after next.”

Fuck.

“No.”

“Okay.”

What? That was way too easy -

“I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve heard so much about you, all good things of course, and I was really looking forward to meeting you there.” 

Bullshit. But . . . this girl’s actually pretty funny. A part of me sees myself in her. But this girl’s probably a terrible salesperson.

“Sorry, no can do. I have plans. Maybe next time though?”

The line is silent for a moment, and then, “Sounds good. Yeah. Okay. Um ...thanks.”

I hang up the phone only to find the three bats staring at me.

“What?”

“Who was that?”

“Just -” I really don’t want to tell them about Luthor . . . “A friend. She has a party next weekend, but I haven’t exactly let my friends know about what happened these past few days.”

“And why aren’t you going?”

Well I can’t exactly tell him about Luthor at this point, can I? Not with my stealing part of AMAZO under their noses . . .

“Like I said, I have plans. I have to clean my apartment. I have to find a new job. I have to -”

“There’s a position with Wayne Enterprises.”

It’s Tim who interrupts me.

“Yeah? And how would Mr. Wayne feel about a self confessed former employee of two mob bosses?”

The car is silent again for a hot second before Mr. Batman speaks up.

“Something could be arranged, I’m sure. What are your qualifications?”

I can’t believe I’m hearing this.

“I- I was an assistant to Ms. Li, Black Mask’s assistant for a good while. And I organized reports for Mr. Falcone. Basic office work.”

They’re totally judging me.

“That’s . . . impressive.”

Sure it is.

“Look, you don’t have to give me a job, I-”

“It’s fine. I’ll send your resume to Lucius.”

“You don’t even  _ have  _ my resume.”

The look on his face seems to tell me he actually does and he’s amused I would doubt him.

It pisses me off.

Thank the Lord I don’t live too far from the Police Station, because just as I’m about to argue with Mr. Batman, the car is stopping.

“We’re here, Mister Wayne.”

I’m out of that car faster than a bat out of hell, even as I hear Dick call out, “We’ll be in touch!”

_____

I try not to think about it - the impending confrontation I’m bound to have with Batman. Despite the fact that he wants to butt into my life, I’ve had enough of millionaires and billionaires trying to force my hand.

And in trying not to think about it, I notice my apartment - which had yellow tape blocking the door - is a complete mess.

It also occurs to me that I did not have the written authorization to enter my apartment - Bruce did. And I’m not about to give them an excuse to come after me again. I need that authorization in writing.

I’m on hold for ten minutes before I finally get a detective.

“O'Neil.”

Because of course it was the ass who interrogated me earlier.

“Hi, this is Annie Simon. I’m home, not inside, just - I didn’t get anything in writing saying I could enter my house . . . could you send me an email with all that information? For my records?”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone before he grumbles out “Yeah, yeah” and takes my information.

By the time I receive the email, I’m hungry and grumpy - so the mess waiting for me inside is enough to drive me to literal tears -  _ and why the fuck am I even crying?! _

I get started on the food (because that’s more important than literally  _ anything _ else) and by the time I’m tossing the last of the expired perishables into the trash bag behind me -  _ there’s another heartbeat behind me, right over there where  _ \- I hear a curse muttered.

Except,  _ of course, Jason's _ here, I realize as I spin around with a box of cereal (it’s not perishable, but it’ll be sacrificed for my escape if necessary). He caught the jar of half eaten tomato sauce in his left hand while his right carries my groceries and he has my bag over his shoulder.

And he’s scowling.

“What?”

“Were you not going to call and let me know you weren’t coming back?”

Because of course he expects to be what I’m thinking about as soon as I’m free from an interrogation - the stuck up ass.

“I was hungry. And all this stuff is crap and useless at this point. Thanks for bringing the groceries.”

At this point I turn back to my fridge and pull out the almond milk (I bought it a while ago and haven’t used it for much since). Thank goodness it’s still good.

While I’m making bland rice, he sits by the island behind me and silently stares. It’s annoying.

It’s as I slam the bowl of rice with almond milk, sugar, and cinnamon, that I’ve had enough of this.

“Why are you so upset, Jason?”

He doesn’t say anything again while I shovel the food into my mouth, desperate to get  _ something _ into my stomach before I collapse or maybe kill him out of my “hanger.”

It’s as I’m finally finishing the bowl, he speaks up.

“I owe you a bit of an explanation.”

“You think?”

“I’m Robin. Or I was.”

“I figured.”

He seems to glare at me as he asks, “Do you want me to explain or not?”

“Fine. Fine. Go on - you were Robin, the boy wonder.”

“Bruce Wayne found me stealing the wheels off the batmobile.”

Wait, what? Seriously?

“It was after my mom died. School had let out. And . . .”

He trails off at that point, jaw tensing.

“You weren’t getting the lunch money.”

He doesn’t react for a moment, but then he nods, forearms resting on the counter.

“I wasn’t getting the lunch money. And he just parked the damn thing in Crime Alley. But instead of beating me up, he gave me a sandwich, talked to me, and then brought me to the manor to start training me to be Robin. Because apparently Dickie-head left.”

He really doesn’t need to be telling me this, but even as I start to open my mouth, he continues, “It was fine for a while, but I later found out my real mom was out there and - and I was stupid. I got myself killed.”

What the hell?

“I went after her on my own, without any backup. I didn’t listen to Bruce and -”

“Are you fucking blaming yourself for your own death?”

He looks startled. As if he didn’t expect me to interrupt - because of course I’d been good so far.

“It was all a part of Joker’s plan. And there was a bomb.” He looks like he’s trying to explain it, that the only possible reason for his death is that he was stupid.

“It wasn’t your fucking fault.”

He doesn’t look like he believes me.

“Anyway, I died.”

He’s quiet again, and in the awkward silence that follows, I rub my arms to get the blood flowing, because  _ fuck _ .

“I should have killed Joker when he was here last week.”

His lip twitches as if he wants to smile but then his eyes harden, “He shouldn’t have even been here in the first place.”

“You’re not wrong, but continue. You were dead?”

He nods.

“There’s this very ancient League of Assassins,” something about the name makes me pause - it sounds familiar, “and the leader is called Ra’s al Ghul.”

I definitely know that name. I watched the Batman movies with Christian Bale - it was pronounced differently,  _ but I know that name _ .

“He has this thing called the Lazarus Pit. And he brought me back to life. But it’s not a perfect fix. The pit messes with your head. And I don’t even care that it did. I always had this anger anyway and I don’t -”

“What kind of anger are we talking about here?”

“The kind that drives me to put ten heads into a duffel bag. That kind that has me hating Bruce so much for not killing Joker that -”

“I think anyone would be upset about that. I know I sure as hell would.”

He does crack a smile at that.

“Yeah? Well, I think you’re the only one. Anyway, I didn’t . . . my mind wasn’t in the right place and I couldn’t remember much at first. And I stayed with them for a while. Coming back to Gotham, I was just going to get back at Bruce. And then I saw you in the alley and recognized you. And I needed an insider.”

I try not to feel offended, but I nod and turn to the stove, starting to grab some pots and ingredients (because that rice was not enough, and I’m still hungry).

“Want some pasta? Fried in butter and garlic?”

“Sure. Anyway, I . . . things changed when Dick visited your apartment.”

What the fuck is he talking about now?

“And I realized I’m not just angry about Joker, I’m angry they won’t leave you alone either. That  _ I  _ can’t leave you alone. Nothing good ever comes from associating with the bats. So, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

I have no idea what the fuck he means, but okay.

He looks confused, but doesn’t look like he wants to argue. So the rest of the night passes in silence as we eat pasta and he spends the night in my bed again.

_____

Jason joins me on my hospital visit on Friday. He’s twitching the whole time we walk through the halls, but with his hair redone and with the old Mr. Simon’s slacks and shirts I found in a chest in mom’s old closet, he looks decent. And he’s grown.

I have a feeling no one’s going to connect this twenty year old with the dead fifteen year old adopted son of Bruce Wayne.

Besides, if it works for Clark Kent, then it ought to work for Jason.

“Mrs. Simon.”

Jason seems to scrunch his face up at that, even as I correct the nurse - it’s Clarice again.

“I’m not married. Ms. or Miss Simon, please. How’s Mrs. Janet today?”

If Nurse Clarice’s face was straight before, it’s grave now. “She spoke with the doctor today. She’s opting for hospice care.”

What? I think my heart stops for a moment, even as the beating continues all around me.

“Are you serious? Where is she?”

“She’s sedated and -”

I can’t breathe, I feel sick, I need to -

Jason finds me somewhere to sit while Clarice grabs the paperwork, telling me there are a few things that need to be finalized and organized before Mrs. Janet kicks the bucket. And I can’t - I . . .

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

“Right.”

By the time I finally get to the hospital room, I’ve got my breath back, but I still feel sick and I keep going over the last time I saw Mrs. Janet. She had bruises and she didn’t look happy. And she mentioned this, but  _ I didn’t actually think she was serious! _

But what I can’t figure out is how? I had the power of attorney. And . . . I just don’t understand. 

And at this point, with the morphine dripping and keeping her comfortable, I can’t even ask her about it.

“I just don’t get it.”

“How old was she?”

“In her eighties. She was a stubborn old woman with no children. Always telling me I had to give her grandkids.”

And now I’m fucking crying again, damnit!

“Sounds like a riot. Wish I’d gotten the chance to properly meet her. Come on, Annie. Let’s get you some food.”

He takes me to the hospital cafeteria, seemingly getting over his apprehension that someone will recognize him, and before I know it, I have a sandwich in front of me and a carton of milk. 

I’m strongly reminded of my elementary school days and the cafeteria. Only this time it’s weird because he’s the one buying me lunch and also he’s staring at me funny. I don’t know whether he’s afraid I’ll break or whether I’ll bring the whole hospital down. Neither option sounds reassuring.

_____

His arm is over my waist again on Sunday morning, and he’s warm and -

I have to get up. I have way too much shit to get done today. I spent the whole day Saturday at the hospital, instead of looking for another job. And I plan to do the same today. While working on my laptop.

She hasn’t woken up even once, and I know she’s not going to. 

Jason’s still sleeping, face down on the bed as I grab my pull over sweater and pull my sneakers on.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry.”

He always does this it the mornings. He loves to lay in and do nothing. It’s  _ almost  _ endearing.

“You’re always hungry. Stay in bed, don’t you care about me at all?”

Oh fantastic. He’s being even lazier than usual.

“And yet, I am unmoved.”

I hop out of bed, dodging his reaching hands before he can do anything more to keep me pinned to his side and head to the kitchen. 

Jason follows shortly after, turning the news on while I make coffee and an omelette, and then there’s an announcement that prompts a quick doubletake on my part.

“Yes, Janice - you heard me. There’s going to be a charity ball in Metropolis on Saturday next in Lex Luthor’s Corporate Office Building. The Guest list is very exclusive, and is rumored to be one of the most publicized social events of the year!”

“Why is this on?”

Without even looking back, Jason tells me, “it’s a talk show.”

“Yes, but why is it on?”

He smirks and I resist the urge to glare too harshly.

“Because I turned on the TV.” He turns back to listen to the conversation going on a bit and then calls back to me just before I go back to the food. “You should try to go. You might be able to get more data straight off his computers and will probably have more luck then we’ve had with that piece of AMAZO you have.”

“What do you mean, like a Trojan Horse?”

“Exactly. I think Tim has this really fantastic device that once it gets information off the hard drive wipes it completely and -”

“Wait, what did you say?”

“Tim - the replacement. He has this device. I can ask him to lend it to-”

Oh fuck no. He did not . . . damn it! 

“I’m going to kill him.”

I’m out the door and on my way to the metro when I register the heartbeats behind me, and assuming it’s just Jason, I assume it’s fine.

The sharp pain at the back of my head is the only warning I get before everything goes dark again, and all I can think of is, “Damn, not  _ fucking  _ again. This is getting really old.”

_____

Sorry for the late update. I’m going back to school and working on some original fiction that will hopefully be published and available for sale soonish… if you want to support that (please do) and also see more accurate updates, go to my username and add the dot com.

The link will also be on my profile. There will be a blog there with weekly “Press Conference” updates on Sundays at 5PM and a monthly blog with information about the Original Work and its worldbuilding on the first of every month. So check it out if you want to. Or don’t . . . All of this is free, the ebook won’t be . . .


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